Chapter Text
“All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am”
-"The Story" by Brandi Carlile-
Ziva stared up at the ceiling, trying to make patterns in the dark. It was no use, there weren’t any to find but she persisted to waste the time. What else was there to do anymore? Sleeping was impossible as all her thoughts tumbled around her brain until she couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore. So, she’d relegated herself to lying in bed at night trying to trace patterns and shapes and faces in the dark.
She could trace nearly everyone’s face but Tony's always seemed to elude her. One of the very few faces she thought could maybe bring her some comfort. But like the nonexistent patterns on the dry-walled ceiling, what was comfort these days? She had learned not to rely on happy endings so what was the point in relying on this? She’d finally dismantled the singularity instilled from her Mossad training and surprisingly learned to trust Gibbs and the team. Ziva knew who’s place she was taking and while it took some getting used to on all facets, they were the family she never even knew she needed. It was back to relying on herself again. Was that really their fault though? They were as broken as she was.
And then there were the wounds that scarred so deep they refused to heal. A raw cage of lacerated tissue knotting around her heart and building back up those walls that had slowly come down in the last seven or eight years.
“But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true, I was made for you”
She had learned, however, that there were small salves. What she wouldn’t give to hear Gibbs call her “Ziver” or Tony to make a movie reference she wouldn’t understand or speak her native language in her ear like he had at the airport.
Aht lo leh-vahd. She tried to recall the soft rasp of his voice and the quiet breeze that surrounded them during the sacred moment but it seemed to fade from memory a little more every night.
Ziva groaned as she finally threw the covers off around 5am and attempted to start whatever routine she had comprised over the past week.
She supposed walking through her father’s olive grove watching the sunrise with her favorite tea was a salve in and of itself but nothing equated to what she was missing. As much as she struggled with her relationship with Eli David, he was still her Abba. He was still the man she’d danced on his feet with after dinner and the man who’d take her and Tali to the opera and the man who’d loved her deeply even if he couldn’t show it.
“I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue”
Just as he had been that person for her, she suspected she was Tony’s person. It had become abundantly clear that they meant more to each other than either wanted to admit. He’d been beaten and tortured and defeated Somali terrorists for her. He learned Hebrew phrases just to comfort her. He was the one who cracked jokes and corrected her butchered American idioms. The one she’d want to take 39 minute naps with in Berlin anyday. Play pretend lovers and assassins with. She was his partner in every way.
The sun was bleeding yellows and oranges into the sky and the early morning cool was starting to dissipate with each passing moment.
Ziva turned towards the house she was born in and ran a hand through her wavy curls as she walked in.
She locked the door behind her and opened the window in the kitchen just a crack to let the songbirds’ tune filter through the grove.
With Israel seven hours ahead, she could imagine what her counterparts on the other side of the world were doing just before midnight. Leaving for the night or picking up late dinners for all nighters. The dimmed lights and coffee refills. The longing for her DC family was always strongest at the times she could mentally insert herself in the picture--which was often despite her missions of sorts. Would she and McGee be flipping for who would pick up dinner? If one of them got dinner, the other was definitely on coffee duty. Gibbs’ favorite diner was in the middle of nowhere. Couldn’t he just decide between the battery acid sludge in the breakroom or the overpriced Starbucks across the street?
Despite her tea in hand, Ziva dumped the rest of it out and rummaged around the kitchen cabinets for the Turkish coffee ingredients from her childhood. Gibbs would like it. It was stronger and more caffeinated than American coffee and made in a special small pot over the stove.
As she heated the water, Ziva stared around the room, landing on the computer on the counter, dinging with new chat messages: “You have three unread messages from Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.” She was furious with him for getting into her computer but hadn’t ever had the heart to change the name. It was endearing. And sarcastic and a bit cocky, but Tony was all of those things.
Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo: Good morning Ziva :)
Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo: I know you don’t like surprises but…
Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo: I think you might want to come to the door.
He did not. To say Ziva was suspicious would be an understatement and she cautiously opened the front door, gun in hand.
“Wow, they really call it the red-eye for a reason.”
“I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But, baby, I broke them all for you”
And there he was. Without a care in the world. How in God’s name had he found her?
He probably hadn’t shaved in a week and normally that would’ve bothered her and brought on an onslaught of teasing but she liked how it framed his face and brought out the beautiful blue-green-grey of his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Ziva tried to detach herself despite the fact she wanted to throw her arms around him and breathe in his cologne.
“You call, and I come running. Every time.” He really should stop smirking at her like that. It wasn’t the theatrical showboating but the crafted look only he seemed to give her; his eyes inviting the challenge.
“You really should not have, I was not serious.” Detach. Detach. Detach.
“What part of answering ‘yes’ to ‘do you want some company?’ screams ‘no’?”
“The part where that conversation was two months ago. The part where you realize I need to do this alone. The reason I’m here and not there.”
“Well, too late. You’re stuck with me and I’m here now. So, how ‘bout we just forget the 5,891 miles and figure this thing out?” Despite himself, Tony was truly one of the greatest men she had ever met with a lot more compassion and loyalty than people often gave him credit for.
Ziva acquiesced and gave the smallest of smiles as she turned to the kitchen. “I was making coffee. Do you want some?”
“I’d kill for a cup of joe. That airline crap was worse than the breakroom brew.”
“This is not American coffee, Tony.”
“We’re not in America, are we?” There was that playful look again.
“Why are you really here?” “For you.” He said simply, “Don’t you get that by now? Dear God, Ziva, I’ve spent the last two months trying to find you. I’d stare at your empty desk and tell myself, ‘you know how she thinks, just anticipate her next move’. Until I realized, you weren’t looking ahead, you were looking back. It’s only fitting we’re in the house that you were born in.” He paused for a moment, as if she was supposed to respond. But, when she didn’t he continued to fill the silence, “Well, that and I believe you left this.” Her gold Star of David necklace unraveled from his hand and danced in small circles in between them.
“Oh, because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do, and I was made for you”
Her protective anger dissolved and that smallest of smiles began to appear and fight for control on her lips again. There were so many things she wanted to say and needed to but they all fought for purchase in her brain and out her mouth in such a way that she found it best just to say nothing at all. At least not until later. She couldn’t say the suspected something that lorded over their silences unless other things were said but the exact order left her bereft and gasping for air. Not unlike the last six months. How did you undo six months worth of trauma and not truly talking in a single morning? Or even the day? They weren’t ready for it. She didn’t have it in her for another lay-it-bare conversation. They probably wouldn’t survive. No, he might, but she definitely wouldn’t.
“You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out”
“Thank you, Tony.”
He smiled and stepped into the kitchen behind her and pulled her hair to the side, gently clasping the necklace back into its rightful place.
“You’re welcome.” He said, kissing the top of her head and wrapping his arms around her from behind, bringing her into his embrace.
She was in his arms. She was safe.
“And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am”
"Why did you come back for me? I’m sure you had more important things to do.” They had migrated to the couch now. Well, what passed for a couch; a bound wooden chair with space for two.
“Because I needed to make sure you knew you were more than your abilities. I know how things were left. Orli and Mossad were involved and I spoke to Deena Bashan. Ziva, you’re so much more than what you’ve had to do.”
“Tell that to Deena Bashan and every other person who cries at night for the loved one I’ve killed.”
“Ziva, that comes with the job. You had to kill Ari, don’t let Bashan or anyone else convince you otherwise.” Tony reached for her hands, trying to solidify his words with touch.
“I’ve been revisiting my life before I came to America and hoping that it would somehow undo all the guilt and shame but it’s done nothing but made it clearer. I am the cause. The things they all have in common is tragedy and pain and suffering and me. What else is there to draw from that?”
“This isn’t you. You were a little girl who got pulled into a big world. And if I’m being really honest, I’m not so sure you had a choice.”
“No, it’s what I chose to make of myself.” She stated, before the words painfully escaped, “But it’s not who I wanted to be.”
“You wanted to be a ballerina.” Tony pulled out the old sheet of “I Will” statements, “You wanted to dance and see operas and discover the beauty of your world.”
“That was supposed to be buried. I am not that girl anymore.” She glared at him.
How did he always come weaseling into her private life? She’d eventually learned that normally it was for a good reason but how far was too far?
“Why? It’s not too late to remember the things on this list.” The hope in his voice was nearly painful.
Ziva stood and walked to the window, staring out for a moment before turning back to say, “It is, Tony, it is.”
“Ok, so maybe you can’t wipe it all away. What you’ve been through makes you, you. Makes you the girl I fell in love with.” There was a pause where the phrase stood in the air between them, “You know, I’d really like to help make a new list, if you’d let me.”
With Tony now by her side after his revelation, all the unspoken words don’t seem to matter anymore.
“I love you too, Tony.” She can barely get the words out without her voice cracking and he reaches for her hands again, the list forgotten on the windowsill as he interlaces their hands and holds them up, foreheads meeting in a different sort of kiss.
“Come back to DC with me. Please, Ziva. We can hop on a plane tomorrow and it’ll be like nothing changed.” The same gentle and smooth rasp from the airport was back and whisper soft.
“What if I can’t wear a badge anymore? I don’t think I know who I am without one.”
“I don’t care if you’re an agent or you bag groceries. Just come home. We need you--I need you there.”
“I don’t know if I can. I think this might be something I have to do alone.”
Tony broke their connection with pain in his eyes, “Wow, my Hebrew must’ve really gotten lost in translation because I’m pretty sure I said, “you’re not alone” or have we forgotten that entirely?”
“This is my fight! Not yours! You don’t get to jet-set around the world when I’m trying to do this by myself!” She enunciated those last words, not seeing why he didn’t understand her predicament.
“No!” He snaps before tamping it down. “I know you. I know you want to run but I know you also want to change so let me be there for you. You’ve lived far too long by yourself and are fighting things far too big on your own. You don’t deserve that.”
“Maybe it’s not about deserve.”
“Of course it is! Ziva, you deserve happiness just as much as anyone else; if not a bit more than. I know life has been cruel. Please, I am begging you here. Come home with me. We can start some semblance of a life. We can take our time and breathe. Not have to worry about life or death anymore. I can change with you.”
“Oh, Tony.” Ziva sighed out, exasperated with herself but wanting to explore what his words promised. They were killing her but it sounded like a good life. But it also sounded like one she didn’t feel like she could live free and clear. It felt too good to be true. “I can’t ask you to drop your life just because I can no longer live in mine.”
“It would be our life. Honest to God, I would not lie to you.”
Ziva looked into his eyes, and saw the glistening tears threatening to spill, and raised her palm to his cheek in a caress nearly her answer.
“Yes. Ok, Tony. But do we have to go back right away? I think I want to stay here for a little while longer.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“And they don't know what I've been through like you do
And I was made for you Oh yeah, well, it's true that I was made for you”